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It hadn’t been a good day for Loki.
Nothing in particular had set him off, as far as he could tell. But of course it wasn’t at all out of the ordinary for his mood to be inexplicably low, and Mobius insisted that it was very much to be expected, after everything he’d been through.
Nonetheless, that didn’t make it any less wearisome to deal with.
Brooding and sullen, he’d spent the morning balled up on the couch in front of the television, news channel on mute, doing nothing but staring absently at the images on screen. Obligingly, Mobius had been giving him plenty of space at his grumbled request, issued when he’d first come shuffling down the creaky staircase from his bedroom that morning… though Loki had to admit that he was somewhat grateful for the sporadic and comforting noises he could hear around the cottage, as Mobius kept himself busy with simple chores.
After a while, however, he’d retreated to the kitchen, and the reason for this eventually became apparent when the incredible smell of something baking reached Loki in the living room. He hadn’t eaten all day, and being mercilessly teased with every breath he took was almost more than he could bear.
Quite possibly that was Mobius’ plan all along; to lure him away from his bolthole of misery by taking advantage of the growing hunger he’d been determinedly ignoring.
Well. Two could play that game.
With a muted groan at the effort of moving after too many hours spent inactive, Loki dragged himself up off the couch, taking with him a bundle of blankets as he stalked through the kitchen, barely glancing at a mildly startled Mobius who was currently washing a mixing bowl in the sink. He pushed his way out the back door — the wintry air wonderfully refreshing on his face, and free from the godsdamned tempting scent of whatever was in the oven — and wandered over to the porch swing that took up a large portion of the small verandah, lowering himself onto the weathered padding and arranging the nest of blankets around him to maximise warmth.
It was raining outside, as it had been for much of the day; water gurgling noisily through the roof gutters and drainpipes. And although Loki was well aware that many Midgardians associated such weather with bleak moods like his, it certainly wasn’t a factor for him, typically finding both the sight and sound perfectly soothing.
He could do with a bit of soothing, that was for certain.
Sighing with something that would’ve been contentment on a happier day, but right then could perhaps be generously described as ‘marginally less despondent’, Loki curled himself up tightly again, yet remained upright this time… if only because the narrow two-seater wasn’t large enough to comfortably house his tall and lanky frame when recumbent.
The temperature outdoors was colder than he was expecting, and although it would take a while for it to affect him, he found himself idly wondering how long it would be until Mobius insisted he return inside, like the mother hen he couldn’t help but become whenever Loki’s wellbeing was in question.
Sometimes he thoroughly enjoyed being the subject of such assiduous care, while other times he merely tolerated it without complaint. But on a day like today, that kind of attention would be quite unwelcome, and he could only trust that by now Mobius would recognise that.
Predictably though, as he watched the rain cyclically subside and resurge with the passage of fluctuating cloud cover overhead, Loki’s eyes began to sting from the chill, and his ears and nose grew cold enough to become exponentially annoying. He’d resolved to stay out there at the very least until he was disturbed by his long-suffering companion, but if left alone too much longer, he admitted with reluctance that he may have to swallow his pride.
Eventually reduced to beginning a slow countdown from twenty, only half-believing he’d force himself to move once he reached zero, the back door that led from their rustically charming kitchen creaked open, and Mobius stepped through. Nudging the door closed behind him with his foot, his hands were occupied carrying a steaming mug of tea, and a small plate of freshly-baked cookies.
Saying nothing, he offered Loki a small and empathetic smile, before depositing the two items on the tiny outdoor table beside him, and turning to head back inside.
Something twisted painfully in Loki’s chest; the simple kind gesture apparently all that was necessary for his obstinacy to crumble.
His hand shot out from his cocoon of blankets, grasping Mobius’ wrist, and he promptly found himself under the scrutiny of a pair of surprised blue eyes.
“What’s up?” Mobius asked gently, the flicker of hopefulness in his otherwise inquisitive expression causing the agonising guilt to increase twofold.
“Mobius…” he murmured, unsure of what to say, but his subconsciousness decided for him. “Stay with me?”
The understated yet heartfelt plea was enough to make Mobius melt, his eyes softening perceptibly as he sat upon the bench swing without a moment’s hesitation; Loki tugging him closer when it appeared he was still mindful of maintaining a measure of cautious distance.
But there’d been quite enough distance between them for one day.
In addition to the physical comfort he hadn't realised he'd needed, it was certainly no drawback that Mobius was so warm as well, his skin almost scorching upon Loki's icy fingers when he’d first grabbed him. And as soon as he shifted nearer — the blankets hastily rearranged to accommodate him — Loki greedily savoured the sensation as Mobius huddled up against him, any lingering vacillation soon diminished.
“Are you sure this is okay?” he asked anyway, and Loki nodded, head falling to Mobius’ shoulder as he shuddered in pleasure at the marked change in temperature.
Of course Mobius misconstrued this, tsking softly in dismay as he curled an arm around him, rubbing his shoulder briskly.
“I would remind you that you shouldn’t have sat out here for so long, but I’m kind of assuming that was the point,” he muttered, in subdued exasperation.
“Whatever do you mean,” Loki mumbled, words distorted almost comically by the way his cheek was smooshed.
“You always seem to feel the need to compound your misery when you’re in one of these funks,” Mobius observed candidly. “Like it helps you to justify your feelings or some shit, I don’t know.”
The desire to act affronted was no match for his enervation, and Loki merely huffed quietly in response, before dragging himself upright so that he could reach over and snag a cookie.
“They’re pretty good, if I do say so myself,” Mobius bragged, smiling a little as Loki took a bite.
It was still somewhat warm from the oven, the outside firm to perfection and the inside melt-in-the-mouth, and Loki had to stay a rather indecent reaction when he discovered that what he assumed were raisins were actually small pieces of dark chocolate.
But his delight was obvious anyway when he devoured it embarrassingly quickly and immediately grabbed another, before pausing and offering it to Mobius as a second thought.
“No no, they’re all yours,” he chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve already had, like, three I think.”
Lips twitching in amusement — Mobius’ renowned sweet tooth as endearing as ever — Loki ate the second cookie a lot more sedately, then picked up the tea before it became too cool.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, before blowing on the steaming liquid. “Not just for this, but for–”
With a meaningful look, he inclined his head in a gesture that implicated Mobius’ infallible understanding and acceptance of his solitary, day-long sulking.
“Hey, it’s fine,” came the casual reply, along with a careless shrug, “I know by now when I’m not wanted.” At Loki’s sharp glance, his eyes flashed cheekily, but then his smirk softened into something more serious. “I’m here to support you, Sprout,” he added gently, jostling his shoulder in emphasis. “And if that means shutting up and making myself scarce, then that’s what I’ll do. No matter how much I might hate doing it.”
Hiding his face in his tea in order to conceal how touched he was, Loki gazed back out at the tangled mess of the back garden as the clouds broke yet again, another almighty downpour almost deafeningly loud on the corrugated roof of the verandah.
Mobius pulled the blankets tighter around his shoulders, and Loki tipped his head onto his shoulder once more, snuggling into his side as close as he could.
“What did I do to deserve you?” he murmured, uncertain of whether he could even be heard, and not particularly minding either way.
He knew he had been though, when Mobius’ head turned a little, lips grazing Loki’s brow in a fleeting gesture that was scarcely short of a kiss.
It was only the second time he’d done anything like it, at least as far as Loki was aware. And like the first — that night on the couch after the owl incident — his insides all but instantaneously liquefied.
“Do you need me to list some examples of all the crazy-good stuff you’ve done?” Mobius queried, sounding vaguely amused. “I’ve got some spare time, it’d be no trouble...”
“That won’t be necessary,” Loki cut in hurriedly, having no desire to be rendered either horribly flustered or unpleasantly emotional. “It was rhetorical, as you well know.”
He lifted his head only for long enough to sip his tea again, and they watched and listened in amiable silence as the rain eased incrementally over the next couple of minutes, gradually settling to a soft pattering.
Mobius shifted a little beside him, likely suffering a touch of discomfort from the not overly forgiving cushioning of the swing.
“Feel better?” he asked Loki quietly, and he nodded against him in response. “Good, that’s good. And, uh… d’you think you might be ready to come back inside yet?”
Glancing up at him with a disgruntled frown, Mobius rolled his eyes exasperatedly.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he continued. “It’s freakin’ cold out here.”
“Then you go inside,” Loki retorted, lips curving upwards despite himself. “I’m brooding, remember?”
“Fine. But I think I’m gonna take this blanket here with me, and the rest of my body heat you’ve been soaking up like a sponge… oh, and your last cookie, while I’m at it–”
“Okay, okay.” He dived for the little plate, somehow not spilling his tea, and held the cookie as far away from him as possible. “I yield. I’ll come in.”
Mobius’ satisfaction was insufferable, but it was easy for Loki to forgive when his eyes were so full of fondness.
“Could it be that all I needed this whole time was to use homemade cookies as an incentive to get your sorry ass moving?”
“Never any guarantees,” Loki mumbled around a large portion of the comestible in question. “However, I’d venture that it would be worth a shot, in most instances.”
“Useful to know.” Mobius mused, watching as he polished off the last couple of bites. “Makes me wonder what other undiscovered weaknesses I might be able to exploit.”
Mood now dramatically improved, Loki licked the cookie residue from his fingertips a little more provocatively than was strictly necessary, and with the barest glance at Mobius, deduced that it had almost certainly been noticed.
“May finding out be beneficial to us both,” he replied archly, rising in one smooth motion to wander past him, blankets clutched around his shoulders with one hand, mug of tea grasped in the other.
And though Mobius’ eyes followed him quite indiscreetly, the delayed reaction in doing so physically had Loki concealing a smirk of his own, as he gratefully retreated into their little haven of warmth and light.